


The Christening of the Great Throne of D'Hara

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Seeker Porn Battle, prompt "BJ while on Lord Rahl's throne".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christening of the Great Throne of D'Hara

Richard is hard-pressed to keep from squirming in his new throne. Cara’s hands go to his crotch and he shrinks back, what little he can, whispering, “Cara! There’s got to be a better way!”

The Mord-Sith smirks up at him, securing her hold on his belt and jerking it firmly. She’s already yanked open his vest, baring his midsection. “There’s no time,” she says. “The delegation will be here soon. You need to act like Darken Rahl. That’s the type of man they’re used to and that’s who they respected—because they’re like him. When you decide they’re bad people, which you will, you can go to war with them later if you want. But for now, this,” she finishes, palming his crotch firmly, “is something Darken Rahl would do.”

Richard gulps a breath, eyes darting across the throne room. It’s empty yet, barring the detachment of Dragon Corps guarding the entrances. If they know what’s happening they don’t give indication. Richard jumps a little once Cara rips his fly open, bare hand roughly questing inside. He sighs, teeth gritted as she pulls his soft manhood free, and she looks up, her expression feigning insult. “Lord Rahl,” she says, voice low and eyes flashing with mischief. “Do you not find me attractive?”

“This is a bit sudden,” Richard explains quickly, feeling very strained and not a little pressured.

She grins up at him, a lascivious smirk that lifts one corner of her full lips, and then she leans in, head down to his lap, and all he can see is blonde hair and the sinuous curve of her back. He feels her mouth, though, and the sensation makes him grip the arms of the throne with white knuckles. His cock is bathed in warmth and wetness and it’s a matter of heartbeats before his blood turns hot, starts pumping straight to his groin.

Richard lets his head tip back, staring up at the cavernous ceiling. How did this happen so fast? He didn’t even tell her she was _allowed_. But he knows Cara is nothing if not forward, and also quite unlikely to wait for permission for such a matter. His mind ceases contemplation when Cara swirls her tongue around the head of his cock—suddenly, all that matters is that he’s rock hard and throbbing and Cara’s mouth feels really, really good.

Her golden head rises and falls, her lips sucking at him with surprising care. It’s strange, he thinks, for such a prickly Mord-Sith to have a mouth so soft, a tongue like velvet on his cock. She picks up her pace, looking up at him with wide green eyes as she forces her head down, back up, back down. A quiet moan, half a grunt, escapes Richard. Cara rolls her eyes at him and redoubles her efforts. Their sex is making noises, now, as she forces his erection into her mouth, nudging the back of her throat—he can feel it.

There’s a moment, then, where Richard is suddenly concerned for her, even worried, because she’s pushing her throat against his cock so hard that there’s no way she can breathe, and he makes ready to urge her off, ask her what in the Keeper’s name she was doing. Then he feels it, the giving of muscle, and a small burst of pleasure surges in his cock as it sinks deep into Cara’s throat. Richard’s eyes fly wide. He’s never felt this before. Ever. Never heard of it done, didn’t know it was possible, but Cara’s lips are at the base of his cock, nestled in his pubic hair. She’s taken all of him. She pulls back, gags a little, but then drops back down. Her tongue writhes under his shaft, causing ripples of pleasure that make his hips jerk a little.

When she comes up for air, loosing his length bit by bit from her sucking lips, she looks at him not a little proudly. Richard knows humility but that was honestly no small feat. All he can do is stare back at Cara, still wide-eyed, as she jerks off his slickened cock with her hand. She’s a little flushed and her lips are deep red and shining wet. She reaches for one of his own hands and places it on the back of her head, then dips back down. “Keep your hand there,” she tells him, and licks up the length of his cock, darts her tongue against the tip. “Don’t move it.”

Richard spreads his palm obediently over the back of Cara’s head, because right now he would do anything she told him to. Unceremoniously, she begins to fuck him with her mouth, taking him all the way down and pulling almost all the way back, ever quickening her pace. Her throat muscles pull at the head of his cock, squeeze it, and suddenly Richard is very, very close to orgasm.

And then the delegation arrives, the sound of clinking armor and shuffling feet and quiet murmurs filling the throne room. They’re almost in sight. Richard frantically pulls at Cara, trying to get her to stop. She does, but only long enough to say, “Tell them you’re busy.” Then she latches on to him and he knows he couldn’t get rid of her if he tried.

So he tries something else—gaining control. His hands flit awkwardly between Cara’s head and the sides of his throne before he settles for one on each. He breathes deep, sets his expression, and tries to forget the things he knows—that Cara’s mouth is milking his erection dangerously well, that his hips really want to thrust up and into that delicious feeling, that his complexion might be as red as Cara’s leather, that he actually is sitting on the throne of D’Hara, legs spread wide, with a Mord-Sith sucking him off. Skillfully.

The delegation, a dozen well dressed men, enter the throne room like nothing is amiss. Distantly, Richard realizes that this must indeed be something Darken Rahl would have done. Presently, though, he loftily shoos them away with his hand, tightening his grip on Cara’s hair with the other. She sinks down, stays still, as if Richard is holding her face to his crotch by force. “I’m afraid I’m busy at the moment,” he calls out after clearing his throat. “I’ll send for you when I’m not.”

The men look at each other, hesitant, and Richard sits up straighter. “Was I not clear?” he says, hoping his tone is suitably dangerous. He waits a beat. “Guards, escort—”

The lead ambassador lifts his hand. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll leave you to your current engagement…” He smiles, and it looks genuine. “Lord Rahl.”

The men depart, talking amongst themselves in tones louder than they were. Richard sighs in relief, relaxes back, and Cara slurps her way off of his cock. Her face is red, her hair in disarray, but her smile is pleased. “You did well,” she says.

“I was wondering if you could breathe,” says Richard, brow furrowing as he eyes her with concern.

She shrugs and makes to stand. In a flash, he realizes she means to leave him like this—hard and wanting and unfinished and still very close. “Wait!” he bursts out, and Cara lifts an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to…” He nods down at his painfully erect manhood.

“If the Lord Rahl wishes me to pleasure him for pleasure’s sake, he must command it,” Cara says. Her tone is serious but her eyes are light, and Richard realizes he’s being trained, or tested. He gives in with a good-natured sigh.

“Fine. I command it.”

Cara smirks and nods curtly, then leans in again. Richard’s erection hasn’t suffered for its momentary neglect but Cara takes her journey all over again, shortened this time. Her hot breath hits his cock and it jerks up on its own, making Cara raise her brow. She licks slowly at his shaft, sucks gently at the tip, and then, finally, takes him into the deep, wet heat of her mouth again. Richard realizes his hand has gone instinctively to fist in her hair. Cara hums in approval as she bobs her head up and down, that slide of friction edging Richard ever closer to orgasm.

When she takes him all the way to the base again, effortlessly this time, he feels it, right in his groin, the sudden and inevitable pressure. He gives in, just for now, and seizes Cara’s hair roughly, thrusting his hips up against her, and then he’s coming, seed pulsing from him into Cara. Cara pulls back a little but Richard still feels her, feels her throat working, almost like she’s trying to swallow his cock as his come pours into her. The pleasure is so intense it’s almost too much; it’s the best thing he’s _ever_ felt. Then she jerks back fully and Richard barely has the presence of mind to let her. He’s still coming as she gazes up at him, mouth open wide and pink tongue extended, the tip of his cock resting right against it. He spends the rest of himself there, flooding her tongue, and then he’s done. Suddenly, he realizes his skin is slick with sweat. Cara licks and laps at the head of his cock like a kitten going for the last bit of milk, then holds his gaze as she casually swallows it all. Richard shudders, a ripple going down his spine from the sheer intensity, and slouches down, boneless.

“Well,” Cara says, eyeing him amusedly. She stands, wipes at her mouth, and tugs her gloves from her belt, quickly pulling them back on.

“I hereby command you never to do that again,” Richard says wearily. Cara’s jaw tightens and her expression turns to steel. It’s hurt, there in her eyes. “Without asking me first,” he finishes, letting a grin spread across his face.

Cara offers a smirk before she turns. “Yes, Lord Rahl,” she says, and saunters away, hips swaying, as Richard relaxes on his throne.


End file.
